


A Freudian Substitute

by rabidchild67



Series: A Mental Rebellion [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M, Prank Wars, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:17:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal doesn’t waste any time getting back at Peter after the airport security incident. Sequel to Riposte.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Freudian Substitute

Peter sat at the table at the front of the large briefing room in the Boston FBI field office, paying close attention to Agent Mitzie Fielding of the Secret Service’s criminal investigation unit as she laid out the case against their suspects. Neal had tucked himself into the back corner of the room and was leaning back with his chair against the wall. He was paying attention, he just didn’t want anyone to think he was.

“I’ll turn this over to Special Agent Burke from the FBI, whose team has come up here to assist with the investigation,” Agent Fielding was saying.

Peter stood and moved to the podium, advanced the PowerPoint slides to the correct one and began his presentation, covering the forensic information that had been uncovered in New York and the subsequent findings of his own investigation. As he was detailing the markers on the counterfeit fifties and how they were detected, he reached into his jacket’s inner pocket to retrieve his lucky Quantico pen so he could point to something on the screen. He paused when he didn’t find it, looking up to see Neal twirling it in his right hand, a satisfied smirk on his face. Peter gave Neal a look, but didn’t miss a beat, instead grabbing a marker from the nearby white board to make his point.

Neal had picked the pen from Peter’s pocket in the hotel elevator that morning and was frankly surprised it had taken Peter this long to discover it was missing. He kept twirling it, trying - unsuccessfully – to distract Peter from his presentation. Peter kept an eye on Neal though, gave him a small smile to show him he hadn’t bested him. Neal smirked and leaned back in his chair.

Glancing around the room to be sure all eyes were on Peter, Neal laid the pen on his belly, perpendicular to his belt. He began stroking it sensually with his long fingers, caressing it suggestively, concentrating his finger tips on the flared tip of the cap. He bit his lip and glanced up at Peter, who was trying to ignore him and address a question from a young agent in the front row.

Neal made a pouting face and upped his game. He hefted the pen in his palm and ran the thumb on the same hand up the cap, around its tip and underneath. He glanced sidelong at Peter, and repeated the movement, looking down at the pen again, his lips pursed. When he looked up, Peter had nonchalantly grabbed a case file and was holding it in front of himself. Neal smiled mischievously and continued.

He licked his lips, looked up at Peter through his eyelashes, and, when he’d caught his eye again, put the cap of the pen between his pursed lips and kissed the tip. He pulled it back and blew on it, then sucked the tip of it between his lips, allowing his cheeks to hollow dramatically as he increased the suction. Peter cleared his throat and advanced the presentation to his final slide.

Raising an eyebrow, Neal removed the pen from his mouth and turned it sideways, running the tip of his tongue down, around and back, pausing to kiss its tip as he moved it around. He kept this up for a solid minute and finally shoved it into his mouth, angled into his cheek so that Peter could see the bulge there. He drew it out and shoved it back in again, and then once more. He removed it finally and held it to his lips, the corners of his mouth curved into a wicked smirk.

Finished with his presentation, Peter took his seat again for the Q&A. Neal was pleased to notice he held that file folder firmly in his lap as he did.

“So what are you, like 12?” Diana asked. She’d been sitting next to Neal throughout the entire meeting, and as usual, she missed nothing.

Neal smiled at her, his cheeks coloring. “Heh, yeah.”

“He’ll get you back for this.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
